


And, Echoing

by celestialskiff



Category: Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:29:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialskiff/pseuds/celestialskiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Mornings were never going to be a good time, he reflected gloomily. He’d gone to bed at about five am, but he had stayed up late painting, not drinking, so the headache was entirely unfair.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	And, Echoing

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published to the BSH in 2008.

Julian didn’t say, “the things I do for you,” but the sentiment was heavily implied.

Noel stood in the tiny bathroom, examining his hair straighteners. “Hmm?” he said to Julian’s presence. A coconut puppet stared up at him from the top of the stool wedged beneath the sink.

He put his hand on the small of Noel’s back. “You fucking look fine.”

“I think these are broken,” Noel looked at them mournfully. “Died of nervous exhaustion?”

Julian unplugged them for him without comment. “Can we go?”

Noel yawned. “Fuck. Where are we going again?”

“You should know. You’re the one who wanted to do all this publicity, not me.”

Noel had woken to Julian shaking him insistently. His head was still pounding gently. Mornings were never going to be a good time, he reflected gloomily. He’d gone to bed at about five am, but he had stayed up late painting, not drinking, so the headache was entirely unfair.

In the car, Julian put a cool hand on his forehead for a moment, and said, “I still think we should edit out Old Gregg.”

“I liked that scene,” Noel said, leaning against the window.

“The episode is too long.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?”

“No,” Julian sighed.

Noel thought. “Do we have to go to this interview?”

“Probably.”

“Well, I don’t know. Do these people drive you anywhere you like, or will they only go set routes?”

The driver eyed him in the mirror, but Noel was looking at Julian.

“Where do you want to go?” Julian said. “Something different this time. You’re crap at this game. You always say the jungle.”

“Don’t you want to go to the jungle? Where it would smell like pollen and dead gazelle and eyes would blink at us from inside giant red flowers…” Noel yawned.

“Yes, yes, we’ve established that the jungle is wonderful,” Julian said. He ran his thumb along the inside of Noel’s wrist for a second, just as the car pulled in.

*

Russell Brand still fancied him. It was becoming increasingly obvious as the night wore on. Noel didn’t want to be here. Ideas for paintings kept filling his head, and that seemed much more important than whatever jokes he was supposed to come up with for this quiz. He’d got hold of some paper, though, and he quite liked drawing in biro, really. It was a surprisingly good for tone when you were patient and had used it for years. He didn’t have much patience, but he had the benefit of experience.

Russell kept touching him: the side of his thigh with his leg, the edges of their feet, brushing their arms and shoulders together. The constant jostling wasn’t doing anything for the fluidity of his line. Eventually, he gave up and looked at Russell. He was tired, and Russell was offering him a banana.

Russell’s fingers had indented its flesh, but he ate it anyway.

“Your jeans are too tight,” Noel said.

“So are yours,” Russell replied.

“No,” Noel laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with mine.”

“I still see you as a sex object, you know. Sex in object form.”

“I like compliments,” Noel said, and put his hand briefly on the inside of Russell’s thigh. Russell let out a long breath between his teeth, and Noel nudged his cock for a second, before focusing his attention on Jimmy Carr, who appeared to be asking him some sort of question.

*

“That was…” Julian took a deep breath. His hand was still entwined with Noel’s. It was slick with sweat, but Noel gripped it regardless, pressing up against Julian. He could hear noises of people–a crowd, another act, laughter, instructions–but they sounded like they were travelling from a great distance. His felt a strange, wonderful dizzy energy.

Julian gripped his hip with his arm, and pulled him closer. With their faces and chests together, they each breathed too quickly. Julian rested his forehead against Noel’s. He could taste Julian’s hot breath; almost feel the tickle of his mouth.

Then their mouths, which were open, and still dry from talking on stage, and dry, too, with nerves, pressed together. They did not move for a moment, but were still, simply sharing the same air. And then Julian’s tongue darted forward, nervous as a silver fish, and Noel sucked. Noel felt Julian’s hand tangling in his hair, pulling their mouths closer together, and he pressed his whole form up into Julian’s, feeling the bulk of his flesh and the throb of his pulse. Noel’s hands roamed down Julian’s back, clinging to him, knowing that there could never be enough of this, that he would never want to stop.

*

“I said… you were an angel. A beautiful techno angel…”

Noel nipped Russell’s neck, and adjusted their hips so their angle was better. Russell looked intense and involved in the moment. He kissed Noel, tongue dominant and filling Noel’s mouth, and unzipped Noel’s jeans at the same time. Noel’s cock wasn’t particularly hard, but Russell didn’t notice as Noel slid his hands down Russell’s chest, pushing up the tight shirt and feeling the planes of his flat stomach.

The lights were too bright in the bathroom; Noel didn’t like the intensity of detail. He could see the sweat on Russell’s face, the blocked pores, the scars on his arms, the dark veins on his cock.

Russell threw his head back, breath sharp, as Noel slid to his knees and licked the cock. His pubic hair was damp and coarse, and Noel resented the sharp tang of it in his nostrils. Russell’s skin tasted like soap and incense, but his cock retained a warm musk. Noel licked it until it seemed like he should suck it, and then he closed his eyes, and let the warm, choking sensation over come him.

*

Julian lay on the bed in their hotel in Glasgow.

“I can’t believe we had to come all the way up here for an interview,” he said.

He looked tired, Noel registered, and his black shirt clung closely to his skin.

“Remember that time in Melbourne?”

“Mm?”

“When we came off stage…”

“I was so nervous,” Julian said slowly. “Fucking hell.”

“I wasn’t,” Noel said.

“You were. You were bouncing up and down constantly. You looked ridiculous.”

“Was I?”

“And they we got off stage and I kissed you. Is that what you were getting at?”

“Yeah,” Noel said. He took off his coat, and sat down on the bed. Julian was lying diagonally across it, his arms spread-eagled. Noel sat on the side nearer the headboard.

“Mm. And you think we don’t bum vigorously often enough?”

Noel laughed. He laid back, his head beneath Julian’s armpit. Julian reached for him, groping blindly for a moment, and then put a hand somewhere above Noel’s hip. He pulled Noel close against his side. Noel listened to his heartbeat, his nose full of the smell of Julian’s sweat.

“Now. Shut up and let me sleep,” Julian said.

*

Noel lay in the warmth, listening to Julian snoring very softly. Eventually it became too hot in the hotel room, and stuffy. Noel disentangled himself from Julian’s heavy limbs. The windowsill was wide, and he sat on it, feeling the air cooler here. His limbs were sticky, and left sweaty marks on the window. Someone was walking alone along the Glasgow street, and the moon was wreathed in smog. He’d seen a similar view from many hotel windows over the years. Everything else could change, but it seemed like every dark four am would provide the same images.

He sat back on the bed. Julian murmured something indistinguishable and then opened his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Noel said.

“Mm.”

“You never took off your shoes.”

“Really? Seems very lapse.” Julian rolled over, so he was lying in a more conventional position, and found the pillows. “Anything interesting?”

“When?”

“Out the window.”

“Oh. Just the usual,” Noel said. “Martians and panthers and the moon. Can I take your shoes off?”

“If you want.”

They landed with two satisfying thumps by the door. Noel lay down on the other pillow, looking at Julian’s features in the dim light. He leant down, and kissed Julian’s nose very lightly. Julian made a faint cross sound, and then grabbed the back of Noel’s head and gave him one thorough bristly kiss. Like always, one kiss would never be enough, but Noel’s eyes were dry with tiredness, too, so he gave in, and slept.

*

“Oh, God, Noel,” Russell said, “my knees have gone all weak. How did you get to be so good at this?”

“Practise,” Noel said. “You got any coke?”

“Well. No, I don’t, Noel,” Russell said.

“’Course you don’t,” Noel agreed, remembering. He thought about his painting, and felt like the thing missing was a panther, sleek among dark trees.

“I think I’ll go home,” he said.

Russell smiled at him, nodded briefly, and attempted to pull his jeans back up.


End file.
